


Cherry on Top

by Eithe



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Light Side Sith Warrior (Star Wars), Pegging, Vette POV, Vette is absolutely the one topping in this relationship, apparently I have lost enough shame to post this even though it's wildly self-indulgent, but like... look, maybe that isn't true for everyone's SW but it definitely was for mine, well mostly LS mine is more lightish gray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29416677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eithe/pseuds/Eithe
Summary: Taunt has a lot of opinions about Vette's relationship with her husband. Those opinions go from kind of insulting to mortifying to... well. Vette might need to send her a thank-you note. Eventually.
Relationships: Male Sith Warrior/Vette, Taunt & Vette (Star Wars)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Cherry on Top

**Author's Note:**

> I'd say I'm sorry for that title but I'm not nearly as sorry as I ought to be. Also my friends are a bunch of enablers who told me not to change the draft name.
> 
> The Warrior in this is my bisexual disaster Ashedan, who I didn't even MEAN to romance Vette with. I was all, 'I've never played a Warrior' and 'I'd like to see that mini-romance in RotHC' and then Vette was adorable and I loved their dynamic and miraculously the like... three flirts it didn't feel skeevy to take were enough for her to kiss him first. 
> 
> Anything in brackets [like this] is in the Sith language, because the Warrior is meant to be from an old-blood Sith family and ought to know it. Which means I'll probably stop being salty about that failure to recite the Sith Code on Korriban sometime after the heat-death of the universe. I have no idea if Vette canonically knows spoken Sith, but she does in this because a) she is very clever, b) she spends a lot of time breaking into old Sith tombs, and c) I said so.

Taunt has been very clearly communicating ‘but are you SURE’ between the lines in every exchange they’ve had since Vette told her. And like, yes, she’s sure. She’s married; that involves a pretty high level of being sure. So when they meet up, it’s not a surprise that Taunt’s lekku are curling a little at the ends, quiet but fretful, broadcasting affectionate concern and asking if she’s okay.

If she says it out loud, it’s gonna be a little bit offensive, actually. Vette’s _seen_ some of the guys Taunt has gone home with, alright? She does not have any room to judge.

And, it’s just—jeez. She flirted with Ashedan, even! She made it pretty clear she'd have been happy to go home with him if he hadn’t--

Huh. She totally missed that, didn’t she. Looking back, the way he’d oriented himself towards her was probably a pretty clear ‘sorry, already having so many feelings I cannot cope with them for This Specific Person’ to anyone who had any idea what to look for. Which she… had not.

Well. That’s embarrassing. Or it would be, except he still married her.

But yeah. Taunt does not get to criticize her taste.

The fourth time she catches Taunt frowning at her in concern, Vette finally snaps,

“YOU flirted with him!”

Because she did! She did it first, even, and she didn’t even know him!

“Well,” Taunt says, “he’s very pretty.”

It’s true; he is. He’s broad-shouldered and graceful and his face is nice to look at.

“But,” Taunt continues, a little more delicately, “y’know, pretty is great for a tumble, but it’s not really that high on the list when you’re looking for long-term. And I know you, kiddo. You don’t love by halves, so you’re not looking for a bit of fun and then goodbye. Also: He’s Sith.”

Oh. Right. They haven’t seen him since he came with her that first time. He lets her go alone when she’s meeting up with everyone because – for all they kind of like him just because she does, and for all he wasn’t a total buzzkill that first time – he makes them a little bit uncomfortable, too. And he can’t not know that. So he doesn’t come, because he doesn’t want to scare them, which means they’re never going to get used to him enough to stop being scared.

Which is kind of stupid, actually. She can fix it, though.

“Come to dinner,” she says. “Tivva’s coming tonight, and there’s always enough for leftovers if we have company.”

“You’re a terrible cook,” Taunt complains jokingly, and Vette laughs.

“I’m not cooking. I told him I didn’t do domestic duties the day we met. He’s never even asked.”

–

Taunt stares a little bit. Tivva’s seen it before, although Ashedan makes sure the rest of the crew is half a planet away before he’ll do things like this. He’s dressed like a normal person and bustling around the galley, which smells _amazing_. Vette closes her eyes and breathes in, enjoying it, and then hums in pleasure.

Ashedan knows they’re there, obviously, but she still chirps,

“Honey, I’m home!”

That makes him turn away from whatever he’s cooking with a smile that disproves most of Taunt’s concerns all by itself. Vette didn’t see it until after she kissed him that first time, but seeing him go all sweet and dopey just from one smooch did make her feel a lot more sure of herself.

“Welcome back, [heart.] A pleasure to see you again, Taunt.”

He pauses, probably making sure nothing is about to burn, and then comes to meet them, kissing her forehead – which is very sweet, but she has been gone ALL DAY, so she fists a hand in the collar of his shirt and yanks him down for something a little less innocently polite. He gives easily, so easily; it’s tempting to amp this up, but she makes herself let go, instead. He chuckles.

“[Something to prove?]”

Well. Yes. She’s not admitting it out loud, but he knows enough to read the affirmative in the twitch of her lekku. He smirks a little, so she swats at him and says,

“Get back in the kitchen and make yourself useful. I’m hungry and Tivva will be here soon.”

He saunters back into the galley and calls back,

“You know she finds it enormously entertaining to watch you sit around while your pet Sith cooks.”

“That’s how you know you’ve made it, right? Someone else handles domestic duties.”

Taunt is still staring, silent and wide-eyed, her own lekku curling in surprise and startlement; OH, they say.

Vette smiles smugly until the surprise wears off and… oh. Oh no.

Taunt’s smirk is absolutely filthy and she whispers,

“Well now, that _does_ put everything in a different light. You should have just told me you were topping him.”

–

She would, probably, be much happier if she had not introduced her sister to Taunt. This was a horrible idea. She’s _outnumbered_.

Well, she’s not, but Ashedan’s approach to solving problems tends to involve a body count and she doesn’t want them dead, just…

Ugh.

Ashedan brushes her arm and murmurs,

“[We’re the hosts, you can tell them to leave.]”

It’s probably rude for him to talk in a language he’s reasonably sure no one but her will understand, but that’s a good point. She yawns, not even feigned, and he nods, rising to his feet.

“It’s getting late.”

There’s about a thousand generations of privilege and power in his tone; it’s a statement of fact, but it also very clearly says ‘so get out’ with every expectation of being obeyed.

Taunt rolls her eyes and doesn't move from her sprawl on one of the sofas.

“Yeah, I’m never going to be scared of you again, sorry.”

“Uh,” Vette says. On the one hand; she really doesn't want her friends to be scared of her husband. On the other hand; her husband is one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy and acting like he's not is...

Ashedan just shrugs, but it's a reminder of his size and makes his muscles stand out through the thin shirt. The atmosphere – warm and convivial until now – gets a little frosty.

“I am what ever I was,” he says in that same tone, privilege and power and an undercurrent of threat. It’s true; he’s still himself, still dangerous and powerful and Sith. He’s just hers, now, too.

She puts a hand on his arm.

“Hey. I’ll see them out, okay?”

She gets it; in the Empire, any softness is a vulnerability, and she’s the only one he really trusts with it. He provisionally trusts people she trusts, too, but if they poke at his soft spots – even if it’s just teasing – he’s going to react like it’s an attack. Because where he’s from, no one pokes in fun, they poke with knives and they are always, always aiming to kill.

(It’s probably lucky that she made fun of him for being scary, when they first met. In hindsight, she's pretty sure he took that as a compliment.)

He takes a slow breath and then turns away, and she herds her sister and her friend down the ramp.

Tivva’s the one who breaks the silence, probably because Taunt just got an unexpected broadside of coldly furious Sith;

“He’s still fairly terrifying even knowing you can lead him around by his dick, but there’s definitely worse men to marry than a pretty attack dog you have on a nice short leash.”

“It’s not short,” Vette says, before she thinks better of it. They both stare at her and she knows she’s got to be blushing horribly but.

Well. It’s not. She doesn’t have a like... control group, or whatever, but she had to listen to Taunt’s post-assignation performance reviews for _years_ \--

Taunt starts laughing. She laughs so hard that, between her cackles and the drinks she put away over the course of the evening and the sloping ramp, she actually falls over. This doesn’t make her stop laughing.

Tivva gives Vette a look that says ‘I provisionally approve of your spouse, but I’m a little skeptical about your choice of friends.’

–

“Not that you need my permission,” Taunt tells her the next day, “but you’ve got it. He’s good for you.”

He is very good for her. She feels safe with him, and loved. And free. If she said, tomorrow, that she was leaving, he would let her go.

And that’s part of why she won't. She knows he’d let her. She doesn’t have to test that. He’d let her do anything.

That part is a little bit terrifying, sometimes, but also kind of awesome, because it means that when she asks if they can run away to be pirates, he’s going to say yes. She can declare herself captain and insist that his uniform does not include a shirt, and he’ll say yes to that, too.

And no one in the universe will ever think to look for the Emperor’s lost Wrath as the decorative arm candy of a twi’lek pirate, so he won’t have anything to prove, and he’ll get to be soft all the time. Well. Most of the time. She's pretty sure he will never stop responding to jerks by being mean and hilarious and then killing them, but she kind of likes that part, too.

–

She stares at the thing Taunt sent her, then at the instructions, then at the note Taunt included with the…

This is a prank. It is, right? Do people actually--

Ashedan clears his throat from the doorway.

“I take from your dismay,” he says (with that infuriating lack of inflection that means she has NO IDEA what he’s thinking because his default tone is just kind of smug and amused), “that this isn’t what you ordered.”

She’s still staring. There’s a harness. Because Taunt is actually pretty detail-oriented even when she’s just being a shit, it’s probably even the right size.

The dick, however, is not the right size. At all. If she were a guy, she would not be remotely that well-endowed. It’s like. The size of her forearm, almost.

Definitely a prank.

She looks at the note again.

“More than one way to top! Think he’d let you try this one?”

Her lekku are almost crimping in mortification.

Soft lips press against the top of her head.

“You do not have to do anything,” he says, soft-voiced and gentle, like he thinks she’s scared-alarmed, not bewildered-alarmed.

She doesn’t… have to. That sounds almost like--

“Would you… want me to?”

She looks at him, finally, really looks, and sees a bit of pink on his cheekbones. Oh. Oh wow. He _does_ want her to.

She realizes she’s grinning, and kneels up so that her face is closer to his and she can murmur into his ear,

“Want me to read the instructions first, or do you want to just ask very prettily for what you want so I can give it to you?”

–

Her husband is kind of a slut, and it’s really great.

He married her, and she knows he’s going to be loyal until one or both of them are dead, but he’s apparently just gagging for it, all the time, and she can basically knock him over – this man three times her mass – with a word or a suggestion or a touch, and then get him to beg her for things. And since he knows what he’s doing, and what he likes, when he does beg her for things, they’re detailed and _completely_ _filthy_.

So he walks her through pegging, and edging, and she decides she likes that so much she does it for another hour and a half and he’s shaking and dazed and sweating, more disheveled than she’s ever seen him, including the time someone tried to blow them both up. He’s gasping for breath and his hand is shaking but it still touches her face with incredible reverence, like she’s an impossible and precious thing.

“Vette,” he pants. “Beloved, please.”

Sometimes it’s not filthy at all. Sometimes it’s stuff like that. And she wishes she could roll her eyes and say it’s ridiculous, but he means it, is the thing.

He calls her beloved and heart and he _means it_.

She thinks about the man she met on Korriban, brittle and sharp-edged and angry and confused by her, the way those hard edges softened when she eventually got him to smile. She’s pretty sure neither of them, a year ago, could have imagined this.

Well. Maybe he could have imagined it, but he probably would _not_ have imagined begging for it. She's pretty sure that guy she met hadn't asked anyone for anything in his life.

“Please,” he repeats, hoarse and shaking.

“Yeah,” she says, and works her hips against him again. “Yeah, alright. Come for me.”

This might actually be the best wedding present they’ve gotten. She’s going to have to write Taunt a thank you note.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
